Greenville High School - Hi Life Yearbook (Greenville, MI)

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Class Song A jolly good bunch are we, Our Senior Class, Many a care have we, Each lad and lass. No matter the weather When we get together We have a jubilee. For we are the spirit of Greenville High Don’t you see? Chorus: We are the Senior Class Of the year 1-9-1-8, Of the year 1-9-1-8, As we must leave at last, Hail to our Senior Class. But when we go from here. And think of the times we’ve had, We find we’ve liked the High School, And want to get back right had. We leave the Juniors to take our place, And hope they do their best. We leave it to the faculty to see They pass their test. We sometimes think of the teachers, Whom we’ve put to needless pains, By suggesting what we would do, If we only had the reins. We love the dear old Greenville High, Though we’d sometimes like our way; But you’ve found us a good loyal bunch, In the four short years we’ve stayed.

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even taught eighth grade for a while. Have you, gentle reader, learned enough, or must I mention others? I can, you know. And then, too—athletics! You can't find a much better basketball player than Fair, though you tried for a long time, and it was certainly a sight for sore eyes to see Bill Stafford buck the line for a twenty-yard gain with a pigskin under his arm. And the fellow behind the bat with the catcher's mit was a Senior, too. What about the girls, you say. They were right there. Those of you who saw them play know that, and if you didn’t see them, you don’t deserve to be told what they can do. So take ray advice and come to all the games next year, and then you’ll know all about it. And it was due to the efforts of one of our number that we were able to have a military organization, and a goodly number of the officers are Seniors. But 1 must tell you how we felt when we reached the home stretch in the race. Our country had entered the war by this time, and a few had left our ranks to join those “Over There, and to give their all for Freedom’s cause. That sobered us a great deal, and much was done for Army Y and Red Cross; in fact, we were the only' class that had 100 4 Senior Red Cross membership. We still had a few social affairs, among which was a big Junior and Senior party. It was well planned out in every detail, and was reported the best party ever held in G. II. S. One of the attractions of the evening was the “Devil’s Den, which surely merited its name. It would be a shame to tell all of its secrets, but one thing which we had to do was to feel of the parts of a dead man’s body. es. we shuddered just as you who read it do. We all passed safely through the ordeal except Miss “Van. We also had a fortune teller, and now I’m going to reveal the identity of this much sought after person. Sh! (It was Fatty.) Now, would you believe it? You didn’t know Fatty was a palmist, did you? Well, he certainly is, and a fine one, too. But please don’t tell anyone, will you. We have a faculty for starting things and raising money Just to give you an idea what a fancy little starter we had (and by the wav, she is the same “Preside” I told you you wouldn’t know). I’ll tell you what she did. She planned a party in honor of one of the teachers leaving for Camp Custer, and at nine o’clock she started, and by six o’clock of the same night she had supper ready for about two hundred people. There were many who helped, but she really carried the matter through. I was going to tell you about raising money, too. You see, when we started this book we knew we would have to have some way of getting money to back il up. One way we took was renting the movie, and if any of you didn t go that time, you want to go next time, because we had a fine show. But we didn t stop there. We had a dance for High School people one night in the gym, and it was some party. Many unexpected things happened that night, among them, an imitation of Sousa’s band. by, we even went so far as to sell pop corn balls at the baseball game, and some one sneaked in on us and swiped some. I he guilty culprit laid low, too, for he evidently knew enough to dread the vengeance of the Senior class. We aren’t through making money yet, but as we haven t done the other things, I don’t dare tell you what they are, as that would spoil the fun. Exams, are .almost on 11s again, but we don t dread them this time, for we have learned so much you can just see it pop out of our eyes Some of us even took teacher’s examination and passed very creditably, and we have our school districts all engaged. Others are going to attend higher institutions of learning, and some of 11s are just going to stay .at home (and learn to cook). I started out to tell our past history, not the future, but you know when you get started about the class of 18, you don’t know where to stop. I don’t know how they are ever going to get along without us next year, do you ? We realize we are doing the school an injustice in graduating, but we really want the world to know what great people we are and show them what kind of men and women dear old Greenville sends forth. So here s good-bye to G. H. S., and the people left behind, but we’ll always take our pleasant memories of the dear old place with 11s, and we hope we’ll not soon be forgotten. Irene Yerkes. Pag:e Twenty-Three

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Class Prophecy THE Sibyl of old wrote her prophecies on leaves which the wind soon scattered and lost. I, too, write on leaves; my words may perhaps follow the same fate as those of the Sibyl—mark closely then, what I sav. To begin with, I will lay open the future of our class president, Mr. Arthur Roell. He is destined to work very hard and become very successful, provided—let this be solemn warning—he lets alone all girls with curly hair. Our next class officer, Hilbert Wittkop, will draw his way to fame; his cartoons will make the whole world laugh and think. Mary Lichtenauer (secretary), with her intense executive ability, is to go into politics and—this is very confidential— whenever a particularly stubborn man gets in her way, she’ll just invite him to supper, and presently all the opposition will be withdrawn. And now, what is to become of the other thirty-five or six of 11s? 1 hardly know where to begin. I really can sympathize with the Old-Woman-Who-Lived-in-a-Shoe. I fear I will have to rely on alphabetical order, so as not to miss any one: Lynes Baldwin will become tin director of an orchestra. It might be regretted, however, that he will not go into the movies; he would make such an adorable film idol. Jennie Christensen is destined to give her life to gardening and studying insects. She will probably have many adventures (I deduce this from her red hair), perhaps they will be with cows, sometime when she is gathering specimens in a pasture. Oh, Jennie, beware of cows. Edith Crawford may some day be introduced to us as a prima donna. Whether she reaches this honor or not, her success as a musician is assured, indeed. She charms everyone already, particularly a—well, you know. Marion Howard, our poetess, will enter the nursing profession, and then Oh, young doctors, beware. Arthur Hillman will be presented to 11s in future years as a civil engineer; he may also present us to someone, a domestic engineer, perhaps. Our tiniest songstress, Genevieve Jacobs, will make all kinds of records— Victrola, perhaps. Helen Hansen will become a very busy business woman. She will probably travel a great deal. And speaking of those who love the farm, let Johanna Lyndrup be mentioned, for what would a farm ever amount to if it were not for the culinary art? Her brother, Peter Lyndrup, is also to be a true son of the farm. Beatrice Lillie is another of our musicians, but it is whispered that she will fill her life with more domestic affairs. Maud Lohr has a similar destiny. Esther Madsen will not always work in a grocery. Instead of waiting on other people, she’ll have them all waiting on her. Then our witty society bud, Violette Newbrough, will be captured by a millionaire. If for any reason she does have to earn a living, she may become a popular authoress. There are the Norton girls, Pauline and Marguerite; it is easily said everything around them will always be bright. Marjorie Noxon, another musician! (it never rains but it pours) will always love music, even if she surrenders the greater part of her heart to a mere man. Page Twenty-Five